Long Time Running
by TheNewFrontier
Summary: A young farmboy thrust into the world of pokemon training with scant equpiment and a stolen pokemon, Mark struggles with his pokemon, his adventure and himself as a darker challenge begins to unfold. OC Adventure.
1. So Hard Done By

Mark waited patiently in the Pokemon Center lobby, his listless eyes boring holes into the floor as he hung his head. The sounds of the big city that had so enthralled him hours before now meant nothing to him, mere background noise as thoughts ran laps inside his head. Every few minutes he would hear the intercom announce that a trainer's pokemon had been healed, and every few minutes he would sink further into despair as the intercom refused to announce the only name he cared about. The pokeball belt around his waist now seemed more like a symbol of failure than a symbol of adventure, stripped of the only ball it had held.

Even though it had been only last night, it seemed like months had passed since Mark had escaped into the night, sneaking out of his bedroom window with nothing but his backpack, some of his dad's old training supplies and a two-tone metal ball holding his ticket to freedom. Coppertone City had felt like a metropolis then, nothing like the family farm he was escaping from. And at first it had been amazing, the bustling streets, the unending trainer battles, entire stores devoted to pokemon merchandise. In no time at all Mark had spent all the money he had, savings from birthdays, Christmas and doing odd jobs for his neighbours on the surrounding farms over the last three years. He still had a few dollars in change that he'd swept from his parent's bedroom yesterday before he left, but he still felt too guilty to use that.

Now, though... His only pokemon was in critical condition, and by now his parents had obviously read the letter he left on his bed, explaining where he was going. They were probably furious, and he had no way home even if he wanted to go back, now that he didn't have a battle-ready pokemon. He'd be left at the mercy of any wild pokemon waiting in the bushes for some unsuspecting prey. One thing his dad had always told him was to never leave the farm without the protection of him or one of the family pokemon, like Growler or Nippy. Since it had been nighttime when he made the trip out to Coppertone, Mark had only run into a couple of wild pokemon, and the pokemon he'd stolen from the farm had easily dispatched both the Hoothoot and the Rattata. That was probably what gave him all that confidence; that was probably what set him up for this.

He should have known! Mark stomped his feet against the white tile, his breath heavy and his heart pounding. He never should have put his pokemon into that position. He could have killed it! The nurse said that he would be fine, but who knew how long it would take for him to be ready to leave? And would he ever be able to trust Mark again, after being tossed around like a rag doll thanks to Mark's poor judgment and rash actions?

These questions had been running through Marks' mind for the past hour, his imagination running amok with disastrous worst-case-scenarios involving his pokemon running off the minute he was healed and leaving him abandoned in downtown Coppertone, or his parents tracking him down and locking him in his bedroom until he was eighteen.

"You're a little old to be a newbie, aren't you?" Mark was jolted from his thoughts by the sound of an older girl sitting in the chair across from him. Looking up, he saw that she was probably a year or two older than him, so fifteen or sixteen. Her brown hair was pulled into a careless knot, and her smile seemed sympathetic.

"How do you know I'm a new trainer?" Mark was getting a bit defensive now, his despair being replaced by anger and pride.

The girl giggled, and pointed at his swollen red eyes. "It's kind of obvious. Everyone goes through this the first time their pokemon gets hurt. Don't worry, you'll get over it. I'm Karla, by the way." Mark took her outstretched hand, shaking it warily.

"I'm Mark."

"You still haven't answered my question yet. Normally the kids I see like you are ten years old. You look more like fifteen." Karla didn't seem judgmental at all, merely quizzical, curious. Mark sat back.

"I'm actually fourteen. And I guess I just started late."

"Why's that?" Karla leaned forward, her brown eyes staring directly at Mark.

"I don't know, I just wasn't ready is all." A lie, of course. Mark didn't want to tell anybody the truth, at least nobody here in Coppertone. It might be a completely different universe than he was used to, but it was still only a couple of hours' walk from his home, and people here might know his parents.

"Hm, well, good luck with your training. And don't worry about your pokemon. I'm sure it'll be just fine." Karla stood up to go, then looked back at Mark. "Are you travelling by yourself?"

"Uh, yeah." Mark had heard all of the advice for new trainers, read in all the magazines about how you should always travel in groups. It wasn't like he had chosen to go off by himself, not that he could explain that to her.

"That sucks man. Here, let me give you my number." Karla held out her hand expectantly, confusing Mark. After a moment of awkward silence, she spoke again. "Your pokedex? I'll add my cell number to your database."

Oh, thought Mark. Crap. "Yeah, well, I don't exactly have one." His face flushed as he cursed himself mentally. He knew he'd forgotten something! It would have taken him less than a minute to snatch his dad's old pokedex, or one of the half dozen battered pokedex they used around the farm. Thinking back, he even remembered a display of pokedex for sale at the market that afternoon, and he could just as easily purchased one of those as opposed to that book on wild berries and their healing powers that was taking up what felt like half of the space and all of the weight of his backpack.

"I don't have one," he mustered, carefully examining the lacing pattern on his shoes.

"Really? But they're, like, the most important tool for a trainer! They tell you all about different kinds of pokemon, they have a map of the entire region, they even have a built-in cell phone and radio! How far did you think you would get without a pokedex?" Karla's mouth hung open in shock, as she had clearly never heard of a trainer starting out without a pokedex. And, come to think of it, neither had Mark.

"I guess I just never thought of it..." Mark trailed off. There was really no explanation for it, and he knew now that his adventure was doomed from the start. A critically injured pokemon, no travelling companions and no pokedex. How was he supposed to get anywhere like this?

Karla looked from side to side, obviously weighing her sympathy for the newbie trainer for her own desire to get moving and to avoid having dead-weight like Mark tagging along behind her. Finally she spoke. "Look Mark, I have to get going. But I just won a pretty easy trainer battle today against some rich kid from Sterling. Here, have some of the prize money, it should be enough to buy you a used pokedex from the Trainer's Exchange downtown."

Mark's mouth hung open at this generousity as he accepted the bills from Karla. Despite her downplaying it he knew that, no matter how easy the battle had been, she could still definitely use that money. He managed to get out a quick "thank you" as Karla waved goodbye and skipped out the door. Counting the bills, he discovered that there was easily enough money there for a used pokedex, and maybe even some more supplies. As he stuffed the folded money into his pocket he heard the crackle of the intercom once again, and when he heard the name called his heart nearly jumped out of his chest.

"Would Mark Ingles please come to the front desk. Repeat, Mark Ingles to the front desk. Your pokemon is completely healed."

Well, that's the first chapter. I hope you liked it, and please review if you have any advice or constructive criticism.


	2. Fully Completely

Mark's brown eyes flashed with excitement as he scrolled through his new pokedex, reading entry after entry on the various pokemon. The ones they used on the farm back home were seriously out-dated, and didn't have any of the cool gadgets that this one did. It wasn't brand new, of course, but it was less than a year old and in almost perfect condition. Apparently some rich kid had decided training wasn't for him and traded all his old stuff in to the Trainer's Exchange, rewarding Mark with a great pokedex for a little over half the price of a new one.

Even so, he never could have afforded it if not for Karla. He wished that he'd been able to thank her more eloquently, but at the time he was overtaken by her generousity, and she'd left so quickly he hadn't really had much of a chance to collect his thoughts. Mark determined that if he ever saw her again, he'd pay her back, with interest. Well, maybe not with interest. He'd see how he was doing financially before getting too specific.

Thinking about Karla, Mark was reminded of what she said about his concern for his pokemon. She'd told him that every trainer went through that the first time their pokemon was hurt, and her reassuring words had calmed him down. Now that his pokemon had been returned to him by the nurse, he was theoretically ready to keep moving. He wasn't ready to start challenging gyms yet, and he certainly wasn't going to find many wild pokemon in the middle of the city, so he might as well move on. Still, doubts festered in the back of his mind, keeping him from leaving the comfortable confines of Coppertone.

How would his pokemon react when he let it out for the first time since getting it back from the nurses at the Pokemon Centre? What if Mark had upset it so badly that it just ran off, or even worse, attacked him? These concerns were all he could think about as he walked aimlessly through downtown Coppertone until he was startled by the growl of his own stomach, something he had yet to concern himself with. Once he did, however, he realized that he hadn't eaten a thing since he left home last night, almost an entire day ago! Looking around Mark noticed a couple of vendors selling food on the street and made his way towards one advertising cheeseburgers and fries. Pulling the last few bills of Karla's money out of his pocket he began to order...

His stomach satisfied and his mind now able to think straight, Mark turned his attention back to the lone pokeball attached to his father's leather trainer's belt. As he sat on a comfortably shaped rock in Coppertone Pokemon Park, he realized that no matter how many ways he thought it through in his head, he would still have to face the pokemon eventually. Acting quickly, so as not to lose his resolve, Mark detached the ball from its place on the belt and enlarged it, his thumb hovering over the release button. Pushing it in, Mark was taken aback by the flash of red light, something he still wasn't used to. Back on the farm they rarely used pokeballs, and trainers didn't come by that way very often.

As the light faded, the form of the pokemon began to become visible, its steely yellow wool taking shape before Mark's eyes. Roughly two and a half feet tall, the pokemon was big for a Mareep, but not abnormally so. Looking around with big doleful eyes, the Mareep let loose a nervous bleat as he took in the sights and sounds of the busy park. Mark held his breath as he waited for the Mareep to run off, or shock him in anger, or something. Much to his surprise, however, the Mareep gave a loud, happy "REEP" upon seeing Mark standing beside him and rubbed up against the side of his leg, obviously delighted to see something recognizable amongst these new surroundings. Surprised and ecstatic, Mark knelt down and gave the yellow pokemon a thorough petting, despite the occasional static shock from the crisp wool that coated its body.

The next hour or so was made up of the two bonding all over the park, including a game where Mark would throw a stick into the air that the Mareep would then blast with a broad arc of electricity, splintering the branch into a thousand pieces. Several of the other trainers had been walking around the park looking for a battle, but Mark was still too spooked from the last one to take anybody upon those offers. He knew that once he really got started it would be considered poor trainer's etiquette to deny a battle, but he managed to politely decline most offers with "Sorry, I'm new" as his response. After all, the Mareep had spent its entire life up until now as part of a flock, being tended by either Mark, his father or one of the pokemon that was trained to watch over them. Even if Mark was experienced as a trainer, which he wasn't, his Mareep was unlikely to be able to hold its own against a real opponent. And even if he could, most of the trainers Mark saw around the park had a bunch of pokemon, not just one.

When Mark saw that Mareep was getting tired, he returned him to his pokeball and spent a couple of hours more wondering the streets of Coppertone. He knew that he had to leave at some point, but he was still kind of nervous. Sitting on a bench outside of the pokemon center, he watched a group of laughing trainers approach, each of them with the maximum allowed six pokeballs attached to their belts.

"I can't believe how many pokemon we caught out there! It's like they wanted us to catch them."

The group slipped into the Pokeon Center, but Mark's imagination was drawn to the snippet of conversation that he'd heard. He did need to catch more pokemon, and those boys hadn't been carrying their heavy travel packs, which meant that they'd probably been catching pokemon just outside of the city! A patch of grass nearby, teeming with wild pokemon eager to be trained by a capable trainer...

Off and running, Mark pushed through the crowded street. He ran in the same direction as he had seen the other trainers coming from, his youthful imagination getting away with him. What if he caught more pokemon than he had pokeballs?

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

"I don't see there being much point, to be honest."

Raymond Ingles looked over his cup of coffee at his wife, her eyes red from crying. "We both knew training was going to be in his blood. I'd hoped he would stay for another harvest, because we could use the help, but there's no use going out and catching him and forcing him back here."

Joan stared back at him, her eyes filled with a mother's wrath. "He's fourteen, Ray. Fourteen. I know that parents have been sending their children out on wild Farfetch'd chases since time immemorial, but that doesn't mean it's right."

This wasn't a new argument. Mark had wanted to become a trainer the minute he reached the legal age, but his parents were uncooperative. Raymond needed Mark's help around the farm, and Joan simply refused to watch her only child run out into the wild blue yonder without her protection. In the years since Mark's fourteenth birthday, however, Raymond had become more and more open to the idea of his son following in his footsteps and becoming a pokemon trainer. While the Ingles' marriage was stronger than any argument, Raymond couldn't deny that these arguments had put a lot of unneeded tension into their relationship, and in a way was glad that Mark had made the decision for them.

"Fourteen is a lot older than most new trainers, and he's a smart kid. He can take care of himself."

Joan could almost physically feel herself losing the argument. Ray was right, and she knew it, but she couldn't help herself. Her only son, her baby, was out in the world. "He doesn't even have a real pokemon. The note said that he took a Mareep, Ray. That's a farm pokemon, not a battler."

Raymond just smiled, his weather worn, leathery face gently shaking with a light laughter. "Mareep can be tougher than you think."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Wading through the tall grass, Mark watched as other, more experienced trainers manoeuvred, carrying themselves with confidence. Unlike them, Mark had never caught a new pokemon, and his past failures with battling had removed the confidence of ignorance that most new trainers enjoyed. Still, he was cautiously optimistic.

Next to the patch of grass, a pond rippled with activity. As a farmboy from the outlying prairies, however, Mark was wary around water and chose to seek out a pokemon on the solid ground, where he felt more comfortable. Slowly making his way to the less crowded edge of the meadow, Mark released his Mareep from his pokeball and watched as the yellow creature eyed its new surroundings. After several moments, the pokemon gave a happy cry and rubbed up against his trainer, sending small static shocks up his leg. It wasn't long, however, before their reunion was interrupted by something cold splashing against the back of Mark's head. Whipping around, he saw a small, round, blue pokemon bobbing in the water near the shore of the pond. As soon as he saw it, however, the mischievous pokemon dipped back underwater, leaving Mark staring at the pond's calm, blue surface.

Mark and his Mareep spent the next hour or so searching the grass for pokemon, but they kept evading his clumsy attempts to corner them. The pokemon in the water, however, kept sending streams of water shooting at the two of them periodically. While only about half of them made contact, each time Mark heard the rush of water overhead he swivelled around just in time to watch the crafty water-type slip back into the pond. After a particularly freezing volley connected with his left eye, the two of them found themselves perched around the pond, waiting silently for the culprit to raise its head again.

It didn't take long for them to have their opportunity. A sleek blue head broke through the water and glanced around the meadow, looking for its favourite target. Mark and his Mareep watched in silence as the small, cerulean pokemon slid up onto the shore and crawled through the cattails, eagerly seeking out an absent-minded trainer.

"Now, Mareep!" A broad arc of electricity flashed through the air, throwing the creature through the air. As it flew, Mark saw that it had a tail with a large, blue ball at the end of it, roughly the same size as its body. A sharp cry of pain escaped from the pokemon's mouth while it was in the air, and another as it slammed into the ground. "Azuuuuuuuu!" For the briefest of moments Mark felt pangs of sympathy for the pokemon, but after a brief hesitation he threw an empty pokeball at the blue creature that lay on the ground in front of them. A bright flash of red light followed, and then the pokeball emitted a low note that signified a successful capture.

Mark had just caught his first pokemon.


	3. Something On

Professor Chinkapin chuckled to himself as he watched the Mankey swinging from the branches of its habitat, hooting and hollering to the other primate pokemon that shared a living area. A particularly playful Aipom called back before swinging up to the Mankey's perch with its powerful, dexterous tail. The two of them tussled for a short while before breaking apart and continuing with their play. The Professor had noticed a shift in the group dynamic the last couple of days, since one of the more active pokemon in the habitat, a Chimchar, had been given to a young trainer to start out with. Several of the quieter pokemon had begun to come out of their shells to fill the hole left by the Chimchar. It really was amazing, he thought, the social structures that pokemon create for themselves.

As he left the habitat's observation area, the Professor began to dictate notes to the aide that followed behind. "The social structure of primate pokemon, while less rigid and more flexible than that of other species, shows a definite resemblance with those of humans. This is certainly something we ought to look into further, especially if we receive that grant from the League." The aide, a young woman named Fern, dutifully jotted her boss's thoughts in a notepad as they made their way to the Research Facility's main building. As they came up to the doorway a Growlithe bounded up to them, happily barking at the sight of its master, Professor Chinkapin. Scratching behind its ear, the Professor turned to Fern. "Too often we limit ourselves to thinking of these pokemon as mere fighting machines. I certainly don't prescribe to the theory that we ought to prohibit battles, but there is just so much MORE there that the trainer-pokemon relationship could be!"

Professor Chinkapin pushed through the door and began inputting data to a computer, a focused look on his face that Fern knew meant he would be hard at work for hours. Breathing a sigh of relief, she placed the notepad by his workstation and slipped back out through the door, enjoying the morning air. She really did love her work, and the Professor was a brilliant man, but when the weather was this beautiful it was a crime to spend it cooped up inside. As was his custom, the Growlithe sidled along with Fern, protecting her like he might a Mareep. Fern smiled, like she did every time the two of them went for a walk. Centuries-old breeding habits die hard. They wandered along the path of the Research Facility compound all the way up to the Sterling River and watched the water-types frolicking in the water. As Fern sat on the bank with her feet dangling in the river she reaffirmed that this was, in fact, the life.

When she'd retired from training, having come to the realization that she'd never be good enough to really contend in the Pokemon League, she'd thought that her life with pokemon was over. Far from it! Working with Professor Chinkapin was just as exciting as training had been, and she'd come to learn that she had a real gift for studying pokemon. The strong competitive streak that had been her greatest asset as a trainer also served her well in her new line of work, as she always strove to discover new things and to impress her mentor, Professor Chinkapin. Lately, she'd noticed that it was her, more often than not, that he chose to accompany him on his walks around the Facility, and her opinion that he sought out when he needed a second pair of eyes and ears on a situation. She did miss the adventurous feeling of being out in the wild with nothing but your pokemon and your wits, but there was something to be said for sleeping in your own bed every night.

The splish-splash of water-type pokemon splashing around in the water awoke her from her thoughts. Looking up, she laughed out loud as Polywag thrashed about with its tail, splashing water on the surrounding pokemon that had gathered to enjoy each other's company. The Professor was right, pokemon really did have a legitimate social structure.

That was the last thought to go through her mind before she slipped into unconsciousness.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Mark marvelled at the difference between his two pokemon. While both were very friendly, his Mareep clearly lived life at a slower pace than his Azurill. The playful water-type he'd captured out by the pond had adapted quickly to the life of a trained pokemon, and seemed to really like both Mark and his Mareep. The three of them had spent the day exploring the grasslands to the south of Coppertone City, but had returned to the city's Pokemon Center to spend the night. While Azurill and Mareep rested in their pokeballs, Mark's mind wandered through the events of the last few days. The idea that he'd gone from a farmboy to a genuine pokemon trainer in less than a week was enough to boggle his mind, and the excitement that came with having captured his first wild pokemon was far too much for him to able to get any sleep anyway.

One thing that he would have to think about was names for his pokemon. Up until now he had simply called them Mareep and Azurill, but he'd noticed that most of the trainers around the city had nicknames for their pokemon, and it really did make sense. He didn't call himself Human, did he? After deciding that they needed names, however, came the business of actually giving them names. What did other trainers nickname their pokemon? Mark thought about the various nicknames he'd overheard over the last few days, but quickly realized that he didn't want to give his partners the same nicknames that every other pokemon had! They were unique, and deserved unique names. After several moments of thought, Mark came up with a name for his Mareep that was simply too fitting to ignore. The tightly wound steely wool around its body was certainly Mareep's defining feature, and it was from that wool that its electricity was generated. Mark had found himself commenting on Mareep's wooliness that day, and he felt that Woolly was a good name for the pokemon.

His Azurill, on the other hand, was a lot newer to him. His personality was a lot more mischievous, and its playful attitude certainly made it very likable. It certainly enjoyed shooting streams of water through the air at unsuspecting targets! Maybe "Shooter"? No, that was far too childish. He was a trainer now, out on his own! After several minutes deep in thought, Mark settled on Splash as the nickname for his new pokemon. The Azurill had really enjoyed playing in the pond, sending water every which way. Splash was a fitting name, and it was fun to say, too.

Content with the names he had chosen for his pokemon partners, Mark committed to teaching them these names in the morning. They seemed to be fairly quick learners, so that shouldn't be hard. Though, there were more pressing matters at hand that he couldn't really put off any longer.

Now that he'd captured a second pokemon Mark was feeling a little bit more adventurous, but he still wasn't quite ready to go out into the wild. And besides that, he really had no idea where to go! He'd heard a couple of trainers talk about going on to Evergreen Town, a smaller community to the north where plenty of pokemon trainers competed at the gym there. Unfortunately, to get to that remote logging community Mark would have to pass through the Evergreen Woods, and he wasn't even close to ready to go through a thick forest like that. On the other hand, lots of trainers went from Coppertone to Sterling in the south-east, another large city by the Sterling River. Mark had heard that one of the region's most renowned pokemon researchers was from there, and he had to go somewhere.

After staring at the map in his pokedex for what felt like hours, Mark made up his mind. The route to Sterling City was fairly tame, and Mark liked the idea of going to another big city with lots to see and do. He wasn't used to these sorts of places, and really enjoyed the excitement of the city's hustle and bustle.

The next morning, Mark woke bright and early and left the Pokemon Center as the sun was coming up, hoping to beat the rest of the travellers onto the road and avoid having to battle too many experienced trainers. As he walked through the outskirts of the city, however, he noticed that he wasn't the only early riser. He saw at least a dozen other trainers walking towards Sterling City, and it served as a reminder that being a trainer was a lot of hard work. It meant early mornings and late nights, and more often than not he would be camping out under the stars, as opposed to sleeping in a comfortable Pokemon Center bed. After about an hour's walk along the path to Sterling, Mark realized that his feet were getting incredibly sore, and his pack was feeling pretty heavy. Most of the other trainers had walked far faster than him, and Mark was now all alone on the winding road. Taking a short break, Mark sat down on the grassy roadside and released Mareep and Azurill, no, Woolley and Splash, from their pokeballs to get a sense of their new surroundings.

"How are you guys doing?" Mark smiled as he petted his pokemon. He'd really grown quite attached to them, and it was nice to spend some time with them. As they sat together he made a point to call each of them by their new name, so as to ensure they made a connection with it. To his relief they both seemed to appreciate the new handles, or at least it seemed that they did. Maybe pokemon couldn't reason like that. It would be a good question to ask the pokemon researcher in Sterling City!

It didn't take long, however, for the three of them to become restless. According to Mark's pokedex, they could make it at least half of the way to Sterling by nightfall, and if he could limit himself to only a single night outdoors, that would definitely be a good thing! Returning his partners to their pokeballs, Mark hit the road again. His rest had clearly rejuvenated him as he made excellent time, briskly walking alone with his thoughts. After about forty-five minutes of this, though, he heard someone behind him call out.

"Hey, kid! Are you a trainer?"

Mark turned around to see a red-headed older boy, maybe seventeen years old, jogging up to meet him. Mark wasn't sure if this kid was a trainer or not; he had six pokeballs attached to his belt, but no hefty pack on his back like the rest of the kids on the road.

"Yeah, I am." Mark wasn't exactly sure what else to say. The boy didn't seem threatening, but Mark moved his hand to Woolley's pokeball, just in case.

"I work for the PokeMart chain of stores, and I've been looking for trainers to talk to! You see, the PokeMart in Sterling City is holding a huge conference on pokemon training, and we've even got pokemon experts from other regions coming to talk about pokemon that you can't find here! Some of them are even going to be giving away rare pokemon to a few lucky trainers, so be sure to check it out. Here, have a free sample of one of our products, too." The boy handed Mark an envelope and shook his hand before jogging off towards Sterling City.

That was weird, Mark thought as he opened up the envelope. Inside he found what looked like a computer chip, and a slip of paper. Examining the paper, he realized that it was instructions for the chip. PUT THIS POKECHIP INTO YOUR POKEDEX TO RECEIVE UPDATES FROM POKEMART WHEN PROMOTIONS AND SALES COME UP TO SAVE YOU MONEY!

Mark laughed. Of course the freebie from the PokeMart guy would just be a glorified advertisement. Still, he figured it could be useful to know when the store was giving good deals, so he plugged the chip into the Pokedex before carrying on.

Mark was surprised at how few trainers he actually ran into. He'd seen a couple of them over the course of the morning, but none of them seemed particularly interested in battling him. It wasn't until around noon that he found himself being challenged by an eager young trainer who seemed fairly fresh to the trails, like himself. This kid seemed to have been raised in a wealthy home, all of his clothes and pokemon equipment was high end, and he even wore glasses! Mark's family never would have been able to afford the expense of such a delicate manipulation of metal and glass. Without much in the way of pleasantries, the two squared off in a nice grassy area off of the road.

The other trainer had only one pokemon, so Mark was actually fairly confident. It was a Vulpix, which was certainly rare but didn't look particularly intimidating. According to his pokedex the Vulpix was a fire-type, so Mark tossed out Splash. This would be their first real battle together, so hopefully everything went smoothly!

"Ashy, use Ember!" Stifling a snigger at the childish name that the boy had given his Vulpix, Mark completely forgot to give Splash a command. Fortunately, however, the Azurill knew what to do on its own. Without missing a beat, Splash shot down each of the small flames coming at him with a steady spurt of water before sending an especially strong stream at the Vulpix, forcing it back towards its trainer. Mark watched as the boy winced as his pokemon was hit with water.

"Good job, Splash! Now, use Tail Whip!" Taking advantage of the fear it had instilled in its opponent, Splash leapt forward and slammed its large tail against the Vulpix's head, knocking it to the side. The Vulpix got up slowly, taking a moment to get its footing after that heavy hit to the head. Mark felt sorry for the pokemon, but he also knew that the point of a pokemon battle was to win. Still, Splash clearly had the Vulpix on the ropes, so Mark allowed the other trainer to make the next move.

"A—Ashy, use Tackle!" The disoriented Vulpix lunged at Splash, but he was far too fast to be hit by such a weakened opponent. Slipping to the side, Splash finished the battle quickly with another burst of water that knocked the Vulpix onto its side. After a moment of struggling to get back up, the beautiful fire-type collapsed back onto the ground, fainted. The boy ran to his wounded pokemon and after several moments of rummaging in his pack, he gave it a solution in a bottle that seemed to revive it, although the Vulpix was still clearly not ready for another battle. Rising from his partner, the boy turned his attention to Mark.

"Your pokemon battled really well," the boy said in a somewhat pompous manner as he stretched out his hand to shake. "Although, you did have the type advantage, you know."

Mark thought about turning that comment into an argument, but instead chose to let it be. He had won the battle, after all, he could afford to be benevolent. "My name's Mark."

"I'm Dennis Durring," the boy replied. "I'm from Sterling City, and I'm headed back that way from Coppertone. What direction are you going in? Maybe we could go together!" Dennis clearly didn't seem completely confident in his pokemon training abilities to keep him safe.

Mark thought for a moment. Dennis seemed like a nice enough kid, but he didn't really want to have to travel with him. Thinking quickly about the other cities he had seen on the map, he managed to stutter that he was on his way to Cobalt Cove, a small seaside fishing community several days' walk to the south.

"Wow, long trip, huh? Good luck with that!" Dennis handed Mark his easily earned prize money, which was a truly astounding amount for the young farmboy, before recalling his Vulpix and walking off towards Sterling City, leaving Mark alone with Splash and his thoughts. After congratulating Splash on an excellent victory and feeding it a poketreat, Mark recalled the pokemon to its ball and let his mind wander to his next move. He really had been planning to go Sterling City, but what if he ran into that boy there and was caught in his lie? Well, he could always say that he'd simply changed his mind... And he really had wanted to see that Pokemon Conference that the PokeMart was sponsoring in Sterling! After giving it serious thought Mark chose to press on towards Sterling City anyway, and just tell Dennis he'd changed his mind if he ran into him again, although that was unlikely given the size of the city.

It was lunchtime, though, so Mark let out both of his pokemon to stretch their legs and eat some food before carrying on. The last thing he wanted was to meet Dennis on the road again, and he had a feeling that the rich kid from Sterling wouldn't be a very fast mover.


End file.
